Rules for living in the Pad
by classicdoctorwhorocks
Summary: In the kitchen of 1334 Beechwood, taped next to the fridge, is a list of guidelines that all Monkees must follow. This is the story of how it came to be.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay. Can I just say that my version of the Monkees is set in the present day, basically because I have no knowledge of the 1960's, and would mess up spectacularly if I tried it. Therefore, any references which I make to things which did not exist in the '60's will NOT cause a war. That is my cunning plan.**

**Oh yeah, I don't own anything.**

**[]**

**Rule 1: Do not touch Blondie if you are not Mike. (Seriously.)**

One thing that you could not deny about Mike was that he loved music. Which was fine, since all four of them did. However, Mike took it to a whole new level when it came to his guitar.

Mike had first sighted the love of his life, nicknamed 'Blondie', in the window of a pawn shop downtown. He had fallen for the cream-coloured instrument like a ton of bricks. Even the annoyed remarks from his roommates about blowing the emergency fund couldn't take the sleepy smile off his face.

Unfortunately, as sweet and somewhat bizarre as this relationship was, it had its disadvantages.

Micky had thought that 'she' had sounded a bit flat during practice that day, so during the night he sneaked out of the bedroom he shared with Mike, to try and tune her.

He started to pick at the strings, using the keyboard to adjust the pitch of the E string. Soon, that string was correctly tuned. He carried on to A.

However, when he got to the fourth string, disaster struck. With a twang that sounded like the crack of a whip in the darkness, it snapped. Just out of the blue.

Micky gingerly put the guitar down, running his fingers through his already ruffled hair.

'Okay, this is bad,' he worried quietly, backing away from the damage. 'But, uh, no harm done, right? I'll just go out super early and get a new one! See Mick, everything will be fine, huh? Everything will be-' He suddenly stopped as his back bumped into something hard. Something hard and… _alive?_

He turned slowly around, to come level with Mike's furious face in the near-darkness.

'Oh, _shit.' _Micky said fervently. Then he turned around and ran like hell out the door and down the beach.

After that incident, Micky had a new-found respect for their band leader. After all, who wouldn't respect somebody who could get someone else in a tackle from five feet on a pitch black night?

[]

'Hey Mike, where's Micky going so early?' Davy said curiously.

'Music store,' the Texan answered shortly. 'One of my guitar's strings snapped. This topic is now closed.'

It was never mentioned again.

However, that evening when Mike slipped into the kitchen for a glass of water, he saw a piece of paper taped to the wall just above the fridge. It read:

'Do not touch Blondie if you are not Mike. (Seriously.)'

Mike guessed it was Micky's own way of asking for forgiveness.

He instantly forgave him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rule 2: If someone even **_**distantly **_**related to Peter offers to cook, decline. **

'Thanks for inviting us to stay with you for Christmas, Mom!' Peter said happily.

'Anything to see you boys properly!' His mother replied, just as enthusiastically.

The four boys sat around the dinner table, as their hostess set the cutlery for dinner. It was worth travelling so many miles to see her; she was just as sunny and cheerful as Peter had described her. She had the same eyes and hair as her son, except her hair had the occasional streak of greyish-white.

'Now boys; because Christmas isn't till tomorrow, we're going to have a relatively low-key dinner tonight. Is soup okay with all of you?'

'Sure!' Micky answered quickly.

'It isn't Peter's Cream of Root Beer, is it?' Davy said apprehensively.

'Davy, don't be rude!' Mike hissed.

'Oh, so you've had it before, then?' The older woman smiled, oblivious to their wariness. 'As a matter of fact, that's what I've made!'

'B-but you said you were out of root beer!' Micky squeaked.

'Well yes, but frankly it tastes just about the same without,' she replied.

'No doubt,' Davy muttered. Mike didn't even bother to reprimand him.

[]

The dinner was a relatively quiet one. Peter seemed to enjoy the soup- he had apparently developed an immunity to the fumes and putrid taste- while his friends struggled.

'Just… one more bite, Micky!' Davy wheezed, having finished his bowl with minimal damage.

'I… can't…' Micky closed his eyes against the agony.

'Is the soup too hot, boys?' Peter's mother smiled, squinting short-sightedly.

'No! Just right!' Mike said, trying to make his voice sound relatively normal. 'C'mon, Mick, the pain will pass, it'll be over soon…'

Finally, all three of them finished, and joined Peter, who seemed oblivious to his friends' discomfort.

'If you think _that _was good, just wait till you try her trifle!' Peter told them passionately. 'Although she's all out of Jell-O, so she thought she'd try…'

[]

At the end of the (very) long week in Connecticut, Rule 2 joined the first rule on the piece of paper.

When Peter saw it, he just sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rule 3: Mikes do not climb trees.**

The group was returning from a gig at a house in the middle of nowhere when the Monkeemobile broke down.

It went completely without warning, giving a sad little 'phut' before falling silent.

Mike, who was at the wheel, kicked the accelerator pedal in frustration, and then wondered what to do. They were still a good few miles from any towns or cities.

'Okay guys; I think I saw a repair place a couple miles back. The car ain't goin' nowhere, so somebody's gonna have to go back. Any volunteers?'

'I'll do it,' said Micky helpfully.

'Good, you're just about the only one who'll understand them, anyhow.' Micky started along the road. Peter, who went anywhere Micky went, followed quickly.

Mike and Davy stayed in the car, making small conversation to pass the time. Mike was about to call Micky and ask what was keeping them when the engine gave an almighty 'BANG!' and started running again.

'How the hell did that happen?' Davy said in amazement.

'Never mind that, let's get a hold of Micky and tell him!' Mike dug out his mobile, and checked the signal. There wasn't one. 'Dammit!'

He looked around in thought. There was nothing around them except a couple of trees and…

Yes.

He ran for the tallest tree, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater.

'Mike! What are you doing, mate?'

'Climbing a tree!' Mike answered. 'I might be able to get a signal!'

Davy had not expected Mike to be a natural tree climber, and he wasn't. However, despite looking slightly silly, he climbed quite quickly, and whooped when he got a bar.

Mike shakily dialled Peter's number, and pressed the phone to his ear, waiting for an answer.

[]

Peter and Micky had not got very far with the mechanic.

For one thing, since they didn't have the car with them, the man couldn't help them. For another, neither of them spoke much Spanish, while the Spanish man spoke no English.

'Por favor, mister!' Peter tried again. 'Our car- uh, burro?' At this, the Spaniard looked very confused.

''Burro' means 'donkey', Pete.' Micky said out of the corner of his mouth.

'Oh, right. Erm- hang on a sec.' Peter pulled out his trilling phone. 'Hello?'

'Hey Peter, its Mike. Can't talk long, I'm up a tree.' Peter thought this a bit odd, but let it slide.

'Okay. Why are you calling?'

'The car's working again, so we think we can hang on till we get to a town or something.'

'That's great, Mike. This guy only speaks Spanish.'

'Right. See you.'

[]

Right after Mike hung up, there was yet another problem.

'Davy?' He said in a shaky voice. 'Look up here and tell me those aren't bees.'

'Those aren't bees, Mike,' Davy said dutifully.

'Good. Now tell me the truth.'

'Those are bees, Mike.'

'Oh, terrific.' Mike groaned. 'Right, uh, okay. There's quite a lot of bees. Lots and lots of bees… Uh, Davy? Maybe if I just stay really still, the bees won't see me, okay?'

That was how Micky and Peter found them half an hour later.

'Hey, what's Mike doing up there?' Micky asked Davy.

'Oh, just acting out a scene from Winnie the Pooh…'

[]

Five hours, three bee stings, and one allergic reaction later, it was unanimously decided that Mikes were not meant to climb trees.


End file.
